But why prate of benefit or pleasure to past or present audiences of the marionette when the best reason for the pupazzi, the true reason I do believe, for their continuance and longevity is the fun of puppet-playing? I confess it: nay, I proclaim it the foundation for my deep affection. And who shall find a firmer basis for any love than this,—interest, amusement, stimulation? Reverence or even understanding are far less vital, less compelling motives. Of course this applies to puppets. Everything applicable to humanity fits the burattini, for we are all so much the dancing dolls of destiny, satiric or serious, crude or precious puppets, all of us. One should truly have a fellow feeling for Punch and Judy.
As to the fun, however, of making puppets and of tinkering with the mechanical contrivances, the total absorption with such problems and the elation in overcoming absurd but seemingly insurmountable technical difficulties; the delight in carving and cutting, in designing costumes and then in sewing, glueing, painting, patching them into proper semblance of the original design: the art required properly to conceive a setting for dolls, the ingenuity exerted to decorate the stage, the delicious Lilliputian proportions of things, the charming effects contrived out of almost anything or nothing at all; and, in manipulating, the thrill of acquiring after long effort a full control of the doll at the end of the wires, of telegraphing one’s emotions down into the responsive little body; and the whimsical delight in writing for puppets (one dare be so impudent, being so impersonal and unpretentious!)—who shall say that such an aggregate of wholesome, creative enjoyment to an entire group of childlike grown-up folk is not sufficient vindication for Polichinelle and his kind? With so much bubbling enthusiasm behind the scenes, how can a proper audience be altogether bored? If they are bored it is a sure sign they are no proper audience!
No one appreciates how funny people are until he has written a play for puppets. There’s nothing any person has ever said which isn’t amusing, honestly and truly amusing, when transferred to the mouth of a marionette. Try it and see.
Take any conversation you may have overheard. Take as many puppets as there were people talking. Dress them to indicate the characters, try to imitate the most pronounced gestures and postures of your people ... and let them speak, verbatim, the words that have been spoken.
It is simply funny, a sort of unconscious, undeniable criticism of the manners of men. There will always be a point, too, a sort of moral at the minimum. No one can fail to see it, either in the words or the gestures or the situations. The puppets will find it and bring it out. Produce the puppets and try it!
I frankly confess I shudder to imagine myself done in puppet. What a cure for idiosyncrasies and affectations!
In all the lack-luster of realism we “stood on the bridge at midnight.” Four of us stood on the bridge and we were very weary. It was the bridge of our marionette stage over which we had been bending for hours. From out in front somewhere the director spoke: “Now, once more the third act ... and remember they must lean against the door when it opens as if they were trying desperately to hold it. See that the strings do not catch. Readers, please watch the figures and give them plenty of time.... Ready?” We were, tensely so.
The beautiful, sad voice of Ygraine gave us the mood. “I have been to look at the doors ... there are three of them....” Aglovale (old and tremulous): “I will go seat myself upon the step, my sword upon my knee....”
“Aglovale, lean back farther against the step; don’t perch on the edge.” (This from the front.) Aggie (as we familiarly called him) thereupon proceeded to jerk up and sit down deliberately a couple of times, then followed a twitching, collapsing, stiffening process.... “Sorry, it’s the little hump in his shoulders and the step is so narrow!” wailed a tired unseen operator. During the struggle Belangere flopped inelegantly on the floor, her manipulator resting a weary wrist. Clearing of throats, scraping of chairs from the readers in the wings.
Patient director: “Well, let it go for to-night. You may have to remove the hump. Are we ready?” We were.
The play proceeded. On the miniature stage in dim, high-arched rooms, bare and gloomy, slender, strange little creatures moved with stiff, imposing gestures. It is an ominous world, the atmosphere vibrating with hidden terror, tense emotions and lonely overtones. Princess Ygraine, to the little Tintagiles: “There, you see...? Your big sisters are here ... they are close to you ... we will defend you and no evil can come near.”
Oh, the tenderness, the dauntlessness, the pathos ... high hearts encircled by creeping, inevitable doom.
Then the old man, mumbling at his own bewildered futility: “My soul is heavy to-day.” (A hand is raised, an old hand, tremblingly.) “What is one to do...? Men needs must live and await the unforeseen.... And after that they must still act as if they hoped....” (The arm drops, heavy ... a silence.) “There are sad evenings when our useless lives taste bitter in our mouths ... etc.”
The scene proceeds, on and on in ascending tensity, readers sitting at the wings, puppeteers operating the wires high up, the director off at his desk in the dark, ... and the marionettes animated into vital significance, symbols of supreme and simplified fervor ... dread, love, courage....
“They are shaking the door, listen. Do not breathe. They are whispering.
“They have the key....
“Yes, yes, I was sure of it.... Wait....”
Old Aglovale faces the slowly opening door, his sword outstretched; the others stand rigid with terror.
“Come! Come both....”
They face the door, they hold it. Their watchfulness avails for the time being. The door closes.
“Tintagiles!”
Aglovale, waiting at the door: “I hear nothing now....”
Ygraine, wild with joy. “Tintagiles, look! Look!... He is saved!... Look at his eyes.... You can see the blue.... He is going to speak.... They saw we were watching.... They did not dare.... Kiss us!... Kiss us, I say!... All, all!... Down to the depths of our soul!...”
A silence, a long silence. Then ... the boards creak as the operators stand up to rest their aching backs.
“Well, Belangere mounted the steps pretty well that time. But don’t forget to take a stitch in her left leg; she still has a tendency to pivot.”
“Yes, I’ll do it and I’ll lengthen her back string; I think that’s it ... and take away some of Aggie’s hump.”
From the sublime to the absurd, no doubt. But there are the puppets hung up ... quietly and sternly gazing, each little character.
No, they are not absurd, patiently, almost scornfully awaiting the subtler grasp of some master hand to bring out the rare potentialities sleeping within them. Awkward, silly dolls they may appear in a clumsy hand, but even we amateurs who serve them faithfully sense more than this in them. So, while we pull the strings and move these singular, small creatures in measured gestures we feel that we are handling crude but expressive symbols of large, fine things.
The puppets used in the Cleveland Playhouse are neither realistic, humorous, nor clever. They are very simple, somewhat impressionistic and quite adequate and effective for certain types of drama. They appeal to the imagination of the spectator. Under favorable conditions one forgets their diminutive size, their crude construction, even their lack of soul.
These patterns for the marionette body were drawn by the sculptor, Mr. Max Kalish, especially for figures which were shown with little clothing on. If the dolls are to be dressed it is better to make separate upper and lower arms and legs, and to join them flexibly or stiffly, as the action of the particular puppet requires.
The material we have used is soft white woven stuff (stockings from the ten-cent store!), which can be painted with tempera any color desired. The patterns shown allow for a good seam. The front and back are alike, also right and left limbs. Each marionette will need some adjusting which one discovers as one works along. We have used a narrow tape to join the arms and legs.
The dolls are stuffed with soft rags or cotton. The limbs must be stiffly filled out and firm, the chest also. The lower part of the torso should be left softer. In the hands we insert cardboard to stiffen the wrists.
We use lead to weight the dolls. Small shot is good for filling up the hands and feet. Larger pieces of lead are used for the torso, lower arm and lower leg. No lead is put in the upper arm or upper leg. The reasons for this will be discovered as soon as one practices manipulating the figures. Care must be used to have the body properly balanced and to have the feet heavy.
The control is a simple piece of wood with five screw eyes to which the strings are tied. More may be added to operate the feet or for other purposes. When using these extremely crude little dolls, however, it is best to depend upon simple means and a few gestures. The strings can be of heavy black thread or fishing cord, the latter is not so apt to become twisted. The strings are attached to the hands, the shoulders, and the center of the back. The hand strings should be loose, the others carefully measured to balance the doll evenly.
In dressing the puppets one must allow plenty of room at the elbow, knee, etc., for free action. We have kept our dolls very simple, the faces and hands painted over, the hair of wool or cotton.
Of the manipulating little can be said. There is no way to learn except by getting up on the bridge and doing it. Too much petty gesticulation in these dolls is ineffective. It is better to hold the gesture. Deliberation and patience are the chief requirements for a successful operator, given a certain natural deftness of hand which is primarily essential.